


Pasticcio

by FlufferNutterButter



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, Multi, Relationships Non-Important, School Lock-Downs, School Shootings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-13
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-17 04:29:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2296685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlufferNutterButter/pseuds/FlufferNutterButter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fate – in health / and virtue – / is against me, / driven on / and weighted down, / always enslaved. / So at this hour / without delay / pluck the vibrating strings / since Fate / strikes down the strong man / everyone weep with me!" -"O Fortuna", third stanza, English translation</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Da Capo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing that thing again where I write half of a story and start posting it without finishing.

**_Da Capo_ **

**8:22 AM**

“Man! _Fuck_ this test.” Mituna said the last part in a whisper, raking hands through his hair as he hunched over his AP Chemistry textbook, back bent to such a degree that he could feel the cold sparks of numbness in his upper back. He pushed the textbook into the desk for a moment while he bent backwards across the back of the chair, popping his spine in a few places, before returning to his exact earlier position.

Beside Mituna, Kankri rolled his eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t make your current predicament so loudly known to everyone else. Some of us are trying to work.”

Mituna made a “fft” sound with his mouth. “This class is a joke. They offer it-t to Freshen. Freshmen." 

“AP Human Geography is NOT-” Kankri was silenced by Latula, who leaned back in her chair and smacked her hand on Mituna’s desk, calling for both of their attentions. Head turned and mouth twisted, she gave them a warning look before pointedly glancing towards the teacher’s desk. She turned forward to her own.

Kankri and Mituna took turns making mean faces to each other, but after a minute, Latula turned back to them, or really, Mituna.

“C’mon, babe. I know you’ll do alright on the test; you always do. What time do you have it today?”

“At the enduh the day. But-”

“You’ve got plenty of time to study, see?”

Mituna made a noncommittal noise. He rested his head on his chin, looking back at the book, before slamming it shut. “I shoulda taken Physics. Willya breeg-bring my bag to Latin?” he asked Latula. Without waiting for an answer, he stuffed his textbook up the front of his hoodie. Loudly, he said, “I need to go to the bathroom,” and stood and left the room without waiting for the teacher’s approval.

Latula sighed, reaching under Mituna’s desk to drag his bag up to the row and next to her.

“He’s so immature!” Kankri complained. “It’s detrimental to the expedience of the education of others.”

“Kan…” Latula said, “Give it a rest? He’s trying. He’s just not ready for this one test, is all. He’d give anything to have it moved.”

**9:18 AM**

Tap. Tap. Tap, tap, click, tap, shuffle, click, tap.

_Taptapshuffletapclickclickclickclickshuffletaptapclicktapshuffle-_

Damara groaned and threw her mechanical pencil across the sitting room outside of the principal’s office. Thank God the secretary wasn’t there, or she’d have _another_ infraction to add to her record, in addition to the one that had landed her here in the first place: fighting in school.

“I saw that.”

Damara made a face, rolling her eyes. “What, you will tell? Can not get in more trouble.”

Aranea leaned against the doorway, binder in arms. “I wouldn’t, actually. Have you seen Porrim?”

Aranea’s inquiry was met with a blank look. “Porrim Maryam?” she tried, but still, Damara didn’t show any sign of recognition. “She’s in Brit Lit with us. Tall? Lots of piercings? Um… rather, uh, _endowed_?”

“Oh. Her. No.” Damara shook her head, and then turned away, looking out the window and effectively ending the conversation. That was all fine for Aranea, as Porrim arrived shortly afterwards.

“Sorry I’m late. Kankri had another Latula-based meltdown.”

“Mmm, aren’t they more Mituna-based meltdowns?” Aranea said absentmindedly. The two girls set about to going through a plethora of papers that had been in the binder. As they worked, they talked, mostly about unimportant things, and both seemed to forget that Damara was still there.

After a while, Aranea left, and only then did Porrim acknowledge Damara. “So,” she began, “Why are you here?” It wasn’t an acidic or malicious comment. She was only curious.

“See principal.” Damara had looked out the window the whole time; she figured she knew every single detail of the oak trees by the school entrance. Wait, Porrim was talking. Damara figured she’d better pay attention.

“…but I don’t think he’s there right now. You could continue to wait, I guess, or go back to class. Your choice.” Porrim walked out, and a halfhearted “See you later,” was thrown behind her. Damara didn’t look up.

After a few minutes of sitting and looking out the window, alone, she figured she’d get up and at least do something else. But just before she did, she looked once more at the street that ran in front of the school.

She swore she’d seen that same car three times.

**10:46 AM**

Two textbooks, a notebook, and a workbook were piled upon his lap, and Horuss was working studiously during his study hall, as he always did, and soon, Kurloz would lumber in and fall over the back of a chair, as he always did, and Cronus and Meenah would take the other two seats in the arrangement and start arguing, as they always did, and Horuss would no longer be able to get any work done as a result of the noise. So he worked as hard as he could in the beginning, so that he could get as much done as possible before he was derailed.

Only a minute off of the bizarrely meticulous schedule, which, for some reason, bothered Horuss, Kurloz strolled slowly into the library, straight to the plush reading chair in front of Horuss. He approached the back of it, turned around, and with a great sigh, let himself collapse over the back, winding up very much upside-down. He nodded in greeting to Horuss.

Horuss nodded back, and then delved into his Civil War textbook again.

Meenah and Cronus were late, too; they didn’t show up until halfway through study hall. Instead of arguing, Meenah just threw herself into a chair of her own, while Cronus sat cross-legged and propped a notebook on his thigh, taking turns between writing with a pen and keeping the pen between his lips.

“Man, this fuckin’ _blows_ ,” Meenah complained, pulling out her phone and scowling as she angrily mashed the screen. “Wifi’s fuckin’ busted-ass, man. And I’m outta shell data for the month.”

“Perish the thought,” Horuss said quietly, “You’ll have to go ten minutes without updating your Instagram.”

Kurloz, the only one within earshot, sputtered a short laugh. Meenah paid no mind.

“’T least I saw some fixer-upper dudes in ugly-ass jumpsuits here to fix it. How’m I supposed to do schoolwork without the wifi?”

“Yeah, ‘cause school’s really what you’re worried about.” Cronus hissed, scribbling more words in his notebook.

“Just want them to fix it fast. Day’s not half over. I don’t wanna stick around here if they’re gonna restrict me.”

“If wifi is the only restriction you ever have to deal with in life,” Horuss began, but he let the rest of his words die on his lips. It wasn’t worth it.

**12:09 PM**

“Meulin! Hold up a sec.” Rufioh sprinted to catch up to her and skidded to a halt beside her. He rummaged in his pants pocket and pulled out a wallet. “You’ve got lunch day today, right? Will you get me something?” He pulled out a $10 bill.

Meulin smiled and nodded. She pocketed the money and headed to the school office, signing her name on the sign-out sheet to let the administration know she’d left.

On her way out of the building, she brushed past a few maintenance workers, neither respecting the other’s personal space. Still, as encounters with strangers usually did, this made her self-conscious. She moved a hand to fiddle with her hearing aid.

Rufioh was headed back to class when he heard a big crash; on her way out, Meulin had knocked into the maintenance workers and caused them to drop their things. He jogged back down the hallway. “Hey, can I help you guys?”

The immediate, violent reaction was “No.” But the men looked at each other, communicating without words, and then, more politely, “We’re fine, thanks.”

“We’re just moving this stuff to the gymnasium.” One worker hoisted a package under his arm.

“Oh yeah,” Rufioh said, jerking a thumb behind him. “Head this way, and at the end of the hall, turn left out of the doors. The gym’s at the bottom of the big hill.”

The men looked at each other. “Thanks, kid,” one said.

“Just glad to be of help!” Rufioh called, and then started jogging back down the hall to class. He really needed to get back.

**12:55 PM**

“Fuck the wifi!” Meenah groaned, kicking her way into an empty classroom. It was lunch, and most of the school was empty, with the concentration of students being in the cafeteria.

“JESUS H FUCK!” a voice shrieked. Mituna jumped back, startled, but calmed down when she saw that it was only Meenah Peixes, resident tough-rich-girl. “Ugh, leave me alone, Piss-sis.”

“Buoy, you know that insult was as weak as your social skills. What’s your fuckin’ damage?”

Mituna stuck out his tongue, but flashed the cover of his textbook up, revealing the AP Chemistry emblazoned on the front. Meenah rolled her eyes.

“Digging your own grave,” she said, and walked over to another desk, sitting on it and pulling out her phone again. “What the fuck is wrong with the wifi?”

“I don’t give a fuck,” Mituna said quietly, still focused on his studies.

**1:33 PM**

“Can I help you?” Aranea said. The secretary for the principal hadn’t been there all day, and so Aranea had been coming by every so often to fill in, as she had during times before when the secretary wasn’t there. Now, one of the maintenance workers was loitering inside, hovering close to the lunch sign-out sheet. Aranea went behind the desk, stepping over the package that the man had left on the ground, and took the list from him. Lunch had ended three mintues prior, and still, one student, Meulin Leijon, had not signed back in, signaling her return to the school. Aranea shrugged, putting the list away, and wrote a note on a Post-It about Meulin’s absence.

“Can I help you, sir?” she asked again.

“Yes,” the man said hoarsely. His expression was strange; he looked at Aranea as if he was about to start screaming at her. He reached down to the floor, opening his package. When Aranea looked up from writing her note, she was staring down the barrel of a gun.


	2. Crescendo

**_Crescendo_ **

**1:41 PM**

Damara hadn’t returned to class all day, but she hadn’t gone back to the principal’s office, either. She’d been wandering campus and the school building, taking her sweet time.

A walking loop that had taken her around the football field returned her to the front doors of the cafeteria, where she knew she could get some food, even after lunch. She walked inside.

And found herself in the company of two men in jumpsuits holding machine guns.

Damara froze, her entire body awash in a cold terror. She began backing up; they hadn’t noticed her yet, but before she could go back through the slow-swinging door through which she’d entered, the cursed door clanged shut.

The two men turned.

There was a hallway on the wall of the building to Damara’s right.

She ran.

**1:44 PM**

Meulin swore as she peeled into the parking lot on two wheels. She was so late for her next class, stupid lunch rush, and so she grabbed her bag of food for Rufioh and sprinted across the parking lot and up the steps to a side entrance to the school building. She yanked hard on the door, and a shock traveled up her arm as the door did not give. Meulin yanked a second time, and when the door didn’t budge, she pressed her face and a hand against the door to peer inside. She couldn’t see anything strange, just an empty hallway, but then she looked down and noticed the broom that had been jammed through the door handles.

Meulin backed away, confused, and started running to another entrance. One of the back entrances had the same situation. The other… well, Meulin didn’t even try the door when she saw someone walk out of it wielding a dark weapon. She ducked behind a bush, food bag dropped and forgotten. The man walked down the sidewalk perpendicular to the building, and then turned away from Meulin and began walking away. The girl seized this opportunity to emerge from her hiding place and sprint for the next best cover she could find, a large hedge planted next to the art building. Her heart was pounding and her breath came in short, terrified gasps as she dove behind the foliage, cursing the noise her shoes made when she ran. Wedged uncomfortably between a rough brick wall and a prickly plant, she reached for her phone to dial 9-1-1.

Her pocket was flat, and Meulin suddenly felt like she was going to be sick. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” she whispered, crawling just a bit towards the edge of the hedge. When she’d stood to run, her phone had fallen out of her pocket; she could see the pink-and-green glitter case from her hiding spot. But she couldn’t go back for it.

**1:59 PM**

Meenah and Mituna had stayed in the classroom past when lunch ended. Mituna was determined to hole up there until it was time for his AP Chemistry test, and Meenah simply decided that her next class was not worth her time.

“…Huh. It’s really quiet.” Meenah looked up from her phone, randomly noticing the silence. She then shrugged off her own comment and went back to her phone, checking for wifi again and, finding none, going back to her game to pass the time.

Mituna looked up, too. “Huh. Is anyone even still here? Check the hallway.”

“Fuck no. I’ve almost beaten this level. You check.”

“Fuck no.”

“Mit-”

A sudden commotion came down the hallway. Footsteps, lots of them, running, and a strange moaning sound. Mituna slammed his book shut and hopped off of the desk, rushing over to the door and opening it.

The footsteps were really close now. Mituna stepped out into the hallway.

“ _What the fu-!”_

There was a dull sound. Meenah looked up in time to see a spray of red and pink hit Mituna, and then the blonde boy fell.

Her mouth dropped open, but no sound, not even a breath, came out. Meenah felt her heart hit the bottom of her very being, and she wanted to vomit. She couldn’t; her body was frozen in space.

It felt like she’d been standing still for hours before she rushed to the other end of the room, looking for escape, and finding nowhere to hide. But there was a way to escape: the windows. She ran over, fiddling with the latch, and opened the window. Looking down, she could see some bushes that might break her fall, but she was on the second floor. People survived things like this, right? A fall from this height wouldn’t kill her, would it?

Hushed, strange voices grew near, and, knowing she didn’t really have a choice, Meenah cast one last glance out the door before she jumped.

**2:08 PM**

Kurloz shouldered his duffle bag when he saw Rufioh come out of the locker room, getting ready to walk back to the school building. Rufioh jogged a bit to catch up with him.

They didn’t talk on the walk up to the school. This walk was simply a walk of convenience; they were the only two enrolled in that weight training class, and because of that, the coach was never there. Kurloz and Rufioh only knew each other because they would spot each other in the weight room.

This silence was fine with Kurloz, but Rufioh, every day, tried to find a way to make conversation.

“Hey, uh, sorry I wasn’t all there today,” he said to Kurloz, “I’d asked someone to get me lunch, but I never actually got it. So…”

“It’s okay.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Rufioh apologized again, “It’s not like Meulin to flake out on me-on anyone, really,” he stopped, because Kurloz had started walking in another direction. He only stopped when Rufioh mentioned Meulin’s name, and he turned to look at Rufioh for a moment before continuing on his way.

“Where are you going? Our next class is…” Rufioh followed Kurloz. The object of Kurloz’s attention was a paper bag on the sidewalk, a fast food bag. And though they puzzled over it for a little bit, their attentions were soon drawn to something else.

Meulin’s cell phone was in the grass next to the school building.

“What the… what’s going on?” Rufioh said.

A voice answered, but it wasn’t Kurloz’s. A man came running down the sidewalk, gun in hand.

Kurloz looked at Rufioh. Rufioh looked at Kurloz. The man drew nearer.

“Run.”

Rufioh ran, sprinting along the sidewalk. He dropped his duffle; he didn’t care about it anymore. And as soon as he was out of sight of the gunman, who’d chased after Kurloz, he jumped into one of the bushes by the building.

“Ow! What the fuck!”

Rufioh backed off of the body he’d jumped on, awkwardly pressing himself into the bush. “Meenah Peixes?”

**2:13 PM**

Kurloz had never participated in any sports or athletic extracurricular activities, but there were other ways to get in shape. And the track team would be damn happy to have a guy as fast as him.

The second he realized the man with the gun was coming after him, he turned and threw his duffle bag, distracting the aggressor, before running absolutely as fast as he could. Hoping that Rufioh had also gotten far away, to deter the gunman from chasing after Rufioh instead when Kurloz escaped him, Kurloz rounded the building, darting inside, and continued his sprint down the hallway.

**2:15 PM**

Damara slumped against the wall, breathing heavily, and pressed a hand to the wound in her side. A bullet had just clipped her, hadn’t hit any bones or anything else important, but it still _hurt._ Just her luck; the second she escaped one threatening-looking janitor with a weapon, she encountered another, and so on, and so forth.

She winced at the contact, and a weak whimper fought its way out of her lips.

She heard approaching footsteps. Eyes wide and teary, she pushed herself to her feet again and started running in the other direction, vision blurred.

She rounded a corner, hoping to get away, but only found herself in front of another man with a  gun.

Dangerously close.

She couldn’t see his face, but she could see him raise his gun.

The footsteps were really close now; sprinting, even, and suddenly, Damara was knocked to the ground; luckily she didn’t land on her injured side. But still, she was dazed for a moment, and when she looked up, she saw her savior.

Kurloz Makara was bent over what appeared to be an unconscious gunman. He pulled up the man’s eyelids, checking for a reaction. None. He was out.

Kurloz straightened, turning to Damara.

She spoke. “Thanks.”

Kurloz shrugged, stepping over to her and reaching out a hand. Damara reached for it, flinching when stretching out like that pulled at her injury. Kurloz took notice.

“Can you walk?”

Damara nodded.

“Good. We need to move.”

He started down another hall, and Damara followed, but slowly. Not ten seconds passed before Kurloz turned around, walked back to her, and picked her up.

“Keep your mouth shut,” he ordered. Damara found the command strange until he suddenly started moving quickly, jostling her, and she felt serious pain in her side. Damara clenched her jaw shut and buried her head in Kurloz’s jacket, hissing.

She almost cried out when they turned on a dime and Kurloz pushed open the door to a stairwell, then started up the stairs as quickly as he could. At the top, he told her he was going to put her down, so she braced herself. On her feet again, Damara held onto the wall for support while Kurloz slowly opened the door, checking to see if the coast were to be clear.

Damara heard him breathe in sharply, and the next thing she knew, Kurloz was walking away.

“What-” she hissed, following him.

When she saw what he saw, she wished she hadn’t.

In the hallway were two bloody bodies. The body of a large teacher, whom she recognized as Dr. Kepper, was face-first on the ground, a dark red hole in the back of his bald head. A few inches away, feet nearly touching Dr. Kepper’s head, was the body of Mituna Captor, a classmate that Damara hadn’t known very well, face awash in blood, half-dried and sticky.

Kurloz was leaning over the latter. He was shaking, Damara could see that; the tremble was real in his hands when he reached to Mituna’s neck to check for a pulse.

At the touch, Mituna jerked awake. “Wha-” he reached to his face, feeling it, and some of the blood not yet dry stuck to his fingers. When he pulled his hands away and saw that, his eyes widened, and his mouth seemed to unhinge. He began to breathe quickly, hyperventilating.

“It’s not my blood,” he said. “It’s not my blood. It’s not my blood, it’s not _my_ blood, it’s not-!” He rolled over, propping himself up on his elbows, and vomited on the floor.

Damara turned her head, willing the sight and the sound away.

When Mituna finished, he let his mouth hang open. Kurloz pulled his friend toward himself, holding the shorter boy, and Mituna screamed into Kurloz’s jacket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Crescendo" - A gradual increase in loudness or intensity.

**Author's Note:**

> "Da Capo" - From the beginning.


End file.
